A suffocating stillness gripped the room.
Not a breath stirred. Not a whisper passed.
Every Marine officer stood frozen, pale and rigid, their horrified gazes locked on the now-dormant Den Den Mushi. It had delivered its message with the cruelty of a guillotine. And now, silence rang louder than any alarm.
Two seconds ticked by—heavy as hours.
Then Borsalino's lazy voice drifted in like a gust of wind through a broken window. "How dreadful," he drawled, scratching the back of his head as though he were merely bored. "So Shiki actually sniffed out our spies..."
Sengoku slammed his fist onto the conference table.
The sound cracked like thunder.
"That bastard destroyed an entire Marine branch just to send us a message!"
Though G-14 was a small, remote outpost stationed at the farthest edge of the New World, it still housed over five hundred Marines.
Barely a minute had passed between the encrypted distress call and its decryption.
And in that time, Golden Lion had annihilated it completely.
The speed. The violence. The message. It chilled them to the bone.
But what infuriated them even more was the fact that Shiki had mimicked their own tactics—shock, awe, and fear.
Their eyes turned, one after another, to Vice Admiral Darren.
There he sat, calm as ever, cigar balanced between his lips, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, hey, hey. Don't look at me. This isn't my fault."
Their expressions said otherwise.
But no one spoke.
After all, Darren had nothing to do with this particular disaster. It was just that Golden Lion's ruthlessness always cast long shadows. His unpredictability made him impossible to pin down—and harder still to stop.
Kong pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration etched deep into his weathered features.
"Darren," he said quietly. "Do you have any way to contain him?"
Darren shook his head. "Not with conventional means. Golden Lion doesn't hold territory. He doesn't follow logic. His Flying Fleet appears and vanishes at will. You can't trap someone who lives in the sky and answers to no one."
The officers looked among themselves. Quiet dread swelled between them.
Hopelessness gnawed at the edges of their resolve.
Then, slowly, Kong stood.
"Effective immediately," he declared, voice like iron. "We reduce intelligence operations targeting Golden Lion. Tighten our defensive lines. Do not provoke him further."
A heavy pause.
"This meeting is adjourned."
He turned toward the few still seated at the head of the table. "Sengoku. Tsuru. Darren. Sakazuki. Borsalino. Garp. Kuzan—you stay."
"Yes, Fleet Admiral!"
The rest of the officers rose, saluted, and filed out of the room, their steps heavy, their faces dark with worry. Even among warriors, few knew how to fight madness.
Once the doors shut, Kong turned his full attention back to Darren.
His gaze had changed.
Grave. Measured.
"Vice Admiral Darren," he said, voice low. "You claim we can't stop Golden Lion with conventional methods. What about unconventional ones?"
A flicker of surprise passed through the others.
Was Kong implying Darren had a real solution?
Sengoku leaned forward, eyes gleaming with hope.
Darren gave a strained laugh, scratching his head. "You're giving me too much credit. Golden Lion's power is overwhelming, and he has no reason to risk a fair fight. The world is his to roam."
"I'm just a Vice Admiral," he added. "How could I possibly restrain someone like him?"
Kong's voice sharpened. "Then how about as an Admiral?"
The words hit like a cannon blast.
Darren straightened. The air shifted.
His tone changed—calmer, firmer.
"Whether I'm Vice Admiral or Admiral," he said, "that doesn't matter. As a Marine, my duty is the same—to uphold justice. That's the trust placed in me by the people… and by my comrades."
Sengoku blinked.
Tsuru sighed.
Borsalino chuckled quietly.
Sakazuki narrowed his eyes.
Kuzan looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Garp, on the other hand, burst into laughter. "Pfft—stop trying to sound noble, brat!"
Kong's brow twitched. "Just tell us your damn plan already!"
Darren grinned, then fell silent for a moment. He took a slow drag from his cigar, exhaled, and finally spoke.
"A direct assault is out of the question," he said. "Golden Lion knows we've taken him seriously now. That's why he hit G-14—to make sure we back off."
"But in doing so, he gave something away."
"Oh?" Sengoku asked, eyes narrowing. "What did he give away?"
Darren tapped the table beside the war map. "Shiki doesn't want a war with the Marines. Not yet. He's trying to buy time. That means he's after something—something so important, he can't afford distractions."
He looked at Kong. "I think you know what it is."
The room tensed.
Sengoku and Tsuru shifted. Garp fell still. Even Borsalino's usual smirk faded.
Kong met Darren's gaze in silence.
At last, he exhaled through his nose and muttered, "Some things aren't meant to be known."
Then his voice hardened. "But with your sharp instincts, you'll find them out eventually—whether we tell you or not."
He looked at each of them: Sakazuki, Borsalino, Kuzan. Then back to Darren.
And in that moment, the wall between the upper echelon and those beneath it began to crack.
"The Golden Lion," Kong said solemnly, "is searching for the Poneglyphs."
Darren's eyes narrowed.
"He's looking for clues... to the Three Ancient Weapons."
The words hung heavy in the air.
So that's what this was all about.
It all made sense now—the remote islands, the forgotten ruins, the whispers of legend.
"Ancient... weapons?" Sakazuki frowned. "Do those fairy tales really exist?"
"They're no myth," Kong said grimly. "They're real. And if unleashed, they could reshape—or destroy—the world."
"From the ancient era, there are three," he continued, voice like granite. "Each one said to possess the power of a god. Pluton. Poseidon. Uranus."
"Pluton," he said, eyes darkening, "is rumored to be a battleship of unimaginable scale. With one shot, it could level an entire island."
To be continued...